Author Archives: Juancho

Team Type 1 is the feel good hit of the summer. I haven’t mentioned them, but they have been on my mind as they advance their cause in the press and in bike racing around the world. I have followed the story of Phil Southerland and his steady takeover of the cycling world ever since Big Worm told me who he was. I would love for Big Worm to give us his perspective on mentoring this local Tallahassee guy in his early years, and supporting him through the Race Across America. Like the rest of us, Phil looks up to Big Worm, and not just because he’s tall. Phil doesn’t race anymore that I know of, but he is directing a team and an international effort to mobilize diabetics to compete and manage their disease through exercise. You don’t have to be a diabetic to get the idea.

In my recent adventures in wellness I have learned a lot about blood sugar and how it affects both the mind and body. While I am not a diabetic, I was doing a good job of impersonating one until last September. Remember all that worshiping of candy corn? Raw almonds are the new candy corn.

Every time I see a TT1 jersey in a race or on a podium it inspires me to take better care of this daily gift I carry around each day.

I’m saying it now, and I hope you are reading Mr. Tour de France chief, Team Type 1 needs to be on the road to Paris in 2012 or the BRC is boycotting the race.

With good control, anything is possible.

Juancho

Raise your hand if you remember Sasquatch, from the early days of this site? I rode with him today for the inaugural Brunch Fandango, a genteel affair involving no dropping, no single track, and no displays of competitive spirit. It was to be a truly regal promenade above the banks of el Lago de Lafayette.

We lost each other immediately upon crossing the first major road, no more than 3 minutes from my house, our point of departure. The fault lies with me, as I proceeded directly to the trail which I had made an effort to communicate as our intended destination. Sasquatch, observing the rules of the Indianhead Acres Gentlemans’s Club, bypassed the trail due to it’s singular nature and he rolled to the bottom of the hill on the pavement, or as he calls it, the bigger single track. Away he went from there, fuming that I should disrespect the Fandango with my show of aggression! Meanwhile, patiently did I wait at the end of the trail- the same trail I had identified as our intended destination. Wait I did, like a dog left behind at the rest stop. He never came back for me.

Now set your watches for one hour and you will experience the amount of time it took for us to re-connect.

There. It was quite a long time was it not, to be wandering and waiting with no hope of locating your fellow caballero, no? Si, de acuredo, hace much tiempo sin duda. We did persist and reconvene for a tour of the Lafayette Heritage nature trail, where at least one senorita informed Mr. S’quatch that I was “beating him” as we climbed to the peak of the grand colina. Foolish girl, the Indianhead Acres Gentlemans’s Club does no beating, the rider in front is simply scouting, for the convenience of his fellow gentlemen.

Juancho

My neighborhood is filled with smoke this morning. Is it so hot that trees are spontaneously combusting? I saw a cat stuck to the road, his little paws sunk into the melted asphalt, that’s how hot it is. He was walking like he had gum on the bottom of his little cat shoes.

I had the tiniest quiver of excitement at the thought that my house would burn up and I would collect the insurance and once again travel free across the surface of the planet. In truth I know I would just rent an apartment on the other side of town and do what I always do these days. Freedom, it is a hell of a concept, but it sure is exhausting when you actually have it in your hands.

I made a salad last night of quinoa, brown rice, baby collards, walnuts, olives, cukes, and whatnot, tossed in a lemony garlic dressing. That is the caloric equivalent of loading a fresh belt in the 50 caliber, so smoke or not I must ride. I could save it for the weekend, but I don’t know if it works that way?

Good grief, this has become such a blog I need to set it on fire.

Juancho

The ride rolled away from us while we were unloading our bikes from the van and that didn’t sit well with none of us. That meant working our way through the pack starting with the slowest and greenest, then working our way past the nature enthusiasts, closing in on the daily drinkers, the muffin-toppers, the slow B groupers, and hopefully finding the wheel of some quick B+’ers if not an A rider worn out from the weekend. I felt pity for none of them. I have been eaten alive, regurgitated, and re-animated on the trails of Tallahassee. Been there and did all that. It was treacherous. We passed on the left, we passed on the right, we passed through the bushes and around the trees. Sometime around the old trailhead we broke free from the pack and had clear open trail ahead except for one flash of jersey off in the distance, which we felt compelled to run down. Some chickens are stronger than others and this pullet was trucking. I turned myself inside out to reach him on the final climb back to the bench and I had him too. I thrust forward my talons and prepared to scoop him up and then, WHAM! I hooked a vine that yanked me straight into a tree in slow-motion cartoon fashion. Dashed!

Back at the bench, the gentleman we were chasing remarked on how startled he was to hear me crashing behind him as he was unaware anyone was back there.

You don’t hear no chicken hawks until it’s too late.

Juancho

Greetings from New Haven, Missouri!

We are enjoying the 13 year Cicada bloom, a rare honor I am encouraged to appreciate by our hosts. The humming rises and falls all day long and into the night. When the cicadas come out to mate they are not bashful about it. I viewed them as a nuisance until I learned that this is a bona fide episodic event in nature. Like Haley’s Comet or a 100 year flood, you can’t just go find a swarm of cicadas any time you wish. These events give us meaning and a way to mark the passage of time. (We met three years before the Cicada bloom of 92 and so forth.)

What other natural events meet this criteria and how are they interpreted now and how were they viewed in the past?

Please tell us.

Juancho